


Black, Violet

by Larathia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Gen, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 00:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13224594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larathia/pseuds/Larathia
Summary: Keith learns to be a Blade.  Covers S4.





	Black, Violet

Knowledge or Death.

It was a redirection of what Keith was coming to understand might be a basic Galra drive; to set a course and stick to it, regardless of obstacles. 'Victory or Death' was more honest, but also less helpful. It didn't allow for a state that wasn't war. The Blades of Marmora understood that a permanent state of war was what had gotten the Galra _into_ this mess. Better, then, to change. Even if, after ten thousand years, the change could only be slight.

Keith could sympathize. It was hard to be other than you were. No matter how necessary it was.

Kolivan was not Shiro. He wasn't a mentor, and by any human definition, he wasn't a friend either. _Ally_ was a good word. _Instructor_ maybe. He was willing to teach, but it was up to Keith to learn or not. He'd made it clear without ever having to say so. It had been in his eyes after the decoy ship had blown; if Keith hadn't made it back to the hatch in time, he'd have been left to asphyxiate and freeze, alone, in the debris field. This wasn't Galaxy Garrison; screwing up wouldn't just get him tossed out of the Blades - it would more than likely get him tossed out of the living population.

That had been more than one lesson; when Kolivan said something didn't feel right and they should go, it was a damn good idea to take him at his word. And when Kolivan said 'get here in two doboshes or else', it wasn't a suggestion. But at least Keith knew exactly where he stood. And there was something to be said for knowing where you stood.

~*~

"Thirty dobashes to extraction."

Training exercises were, as far as Kolivan was concerned, best when paired with live-action debriefing. Why waste time with map layouts and lists of troop movements, when it was more useful to apply all of that information to a training hall and see how it went? Galra could be patient, but not when the goal was in sight. Or, possibly, it was just his way of training _Keith_ after Regris.

Keith's job was to get to a specific panel, avoiding all sentries and security measures, and plant a device that would give the Blades access to the base's mainframe. The layout of the training area had been adjusted to match what was known of the base's architecture and security measures. In and out. No interaction, no combat. 

"Twenty eight doboshes."

Security cameras had a thirty degree observation window with certain cameras rotating that on a one-eighty plane, sentries passed on five-dobosh intervals. Keith counted ticks on his fingers and then booked it down the corridor. Under this camera, past that sentry post. Security measures relied on routine and catching any deviation therefrom. 

Panel.

"Twenty doboshes."

Getting the panel off was easy. Finding a spot to slip the device in, where it could do its work but not be immediately spotted on an inspection, was harder.

He _barely_ dodged the blast in time. He rolled to his feet, knife in hand -

The simulation ended. The hologram of the base disappeared, and Keith got to his feet, lips pressed together on a frustrated growl.

Kolivan said, "You're focusing too hard on the goal at hand. Learn to leave a part of yourself free to count the ticks, listen for footsteps. You could have hidden from that sentry."

He didn't need to say _this was the mistake that led to Regris' death_. They both already knew. If Keith had avoided detection, the mission wouldn't have been aborted early, Regris wouldn't have needed rescue in the first place, and the Empire wouldn't have known someone was snooping for information. The trap that then _killed_ Regris would never have been set.

"Let's do it again," said Keith.

~*~

The Blades of Marmora had quite a few part-Galrans among their number. Many were half-Galran, but a few were like Keith - people you wouldn't have guessed had any Galra in their bloodline at all, until their blades awoke. Keith was, however, the _only_ Blade with any _human_ to him. Earth was a backwater so far back that if people recognized the name at all, it was only as 'the planet the Blue Lion had hidden on'. There was nothing else to know about it.

Keith was smaller than most of the other Blades. No armor, no claws, no tail. No useful abilities like night vision or sonic screams or anything like that. This did nothing to raise the estimation of Earth's value in the eyes of any of the Blades.

But Keith was fast, and he was bloody-minded as hell. He sparred with any and every Blade that felt like testing him until he won or was too beat up to stand, and in the case of the latter, he spent his recuperation time studying base layouts, security manuals, and written Galran.

The Blades were wary of giving Keith any ground for that. Bloody-mindedness was something of a double-edged sword; it pushed him to excel, but it could and had gotten people killed. No one was particularly keen on dying.

~*~

"Five doboshes."

Camera. Laser tripwires. Immobilizing foam jets. The trick was not to trigger them. Get the momentum to run briefly along the walls, move in unanticipated ways. 

"Two doboshes."

Keith dove for the shuttle hatch. He had time, but nearly getting left behind (and more than once) had left something of a permanent impression. He looked around. Kolivan, yes, but where was Enris?

"One dobosh."

The corridor beyond the hatch was empty. Keith almost ran out - not again, not _again_ \- but stopped himself. There wasn't time. There really...really wasn't _time_. He looked over toward Kolivan, whose mask disappeared to show his face. Not happy, no. Kolivan was never happy when they lost another Blade.

The hatch closed. Keith materialized the mask around his face, so Kolivan wouldn't see the hurt. He hadn't gone back for Enris. Hadn't even tried. It tore. It was betrayal in ways he didn't have words for. And now he could only hope that their companion was dead, because if he wasn't it would only get worse from here.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, just the way Shiro used to do. Kolivan's expression was hard, but ...he understood. Possibly. Galrans were not the best at talking about feelings, but Keith had learned to take what he could get.

Oh yes.

Keith reached into a pocket, took out the datachip, passed it over. And wondered, then, if that had been what Kolivan had meant.

~*~

Keith spent most days far too tired to dream. Between training for missions and actually doing them, nine nights out of ten he was unconscious moments after lying down on whatever surface happened to be available.

Sometimes, in the darkness that was the dreamless sleep, the hum of engines became Red's deep mechanical purr.

~*~

The Blades kept close track of Voltron's whereabouts, and Keith tended to be required to attend those communications. It was like being an alliance bride, really. He didn't have to say anything and usually didn't, but both groups seemed to relax a little knowing he was there. It reminded them they were on the same side.

And they _were_. Really they were. But Keith had a strong feeling that most of the Paladins wouldn't really understand that the Blades tended to view Voltron as the most effective distraction they could get. Wherever Voltron went, the Empire was focused on _it_. Nearby bases emptied of troops to try and drive Voltron off, base commanders dealt with the career-making (or more often, career-ending) effects of its arrival, and the Blades more often than not could slip in and out before anyone knew they'd been there.

They needed the intel. Keith _knew_ that. But the more they learned the more puzzling the gaps in that knowledge became, a bigger picture that was stubbornly refusing to resolve itself. Lotor was up to something dangerous; Keith wasn't the only Blade to have that particular belief. But what it _was_ remained anyone's guess.

Still. It didn't quite feel...right...to be trying to find that out when the Paladins were just beyond the hill being a 'distraction' by handing out supplies to refugees. It was as Ulaz had said; Voltron was more important. Part of him wanted to go back. Wanted to go back _really badly_. It was home; it was family.

_"You know exactly who you are: A Paladin of Voltron. We're all the family you need."_  
_"I can't do that."_  
_"Just give up the knife, Keith! You're only thinking of yourself, as usual!"_  
_"I've made my choice."_  
_"Then you've chosen to be alone."_

He _had_ chosen. And they'd let him go. Keith didn't lower the mask any more, when the paladins were near. They had a job to do, an important duty that mattered more than anything else in the unvierse, literally. Keith couldn't go back; there wasn't a place there for him anymore. But he could go forward. He could help. And if it hurt, if it was cold...well. He'd chosen this, and he'd make it work. He could be a Blade. He could learn, and the intel the Blades gathered would keep his family safe.

~*~

Keith said nothing until the screen went dark. "Senfama?" he asked.

Kolivan nodded. "Get your gear. You're coming." He turned, striding off to select the rest of the team.

Keith tried not to be too pleased about it. He was getting better, yes - he held his own among the Blades now - but this was the first real coalition effort. Kolivan quite probably just wanted the alliance bride handy - or he understood that Keith would just come along anyway. He nodded, and ran to get his kit and armor. He _was_ pleased, and proud, of Shiro's plan. And of Shiro. It was solid. It could _work_. It'd be a huge victory.

Exactly what the universe expected of the Black Paladin.


End file.
